i stopped by the library this evening to pick up a shitload of books about ancient greek theatre (oh yay...so fun...riiiiiight). before i left, i found the copy of east of eden i'd borrowed during the summer, because i'd accidentally left a newspaper clipping about the woman who won irene ryan during the national fesival in d.c. in it (i was reading it when i was at my grandmother's in beverly, and she'd given me the clip from the salem evening news (nancy mcnulty went to salem state), so i just stuck it in the book for safekeeping and naturally forgot about it).
there's something about finding something still hiding in a random place, even if it's just been a few months. i felt this sense of glee and excitement about it--odd considering that i knew it would be there, and who else at smc would pick up an old ratty copy of a steinbeck book? but it was like my own little secret...
all my stress is getting to my brain--i'm spouting off shit about old books. argh.
rane is playing at the coffeehouse tonight.